


Jon + Dami's Declassified World Hopping Survival Guide

by Whoop_There_It_Is



Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Damian Wayne, Crack, Dami and Jon are a power couple, Established Relationship, Jon and Damian are smart but also dumb, M/M, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, THAT BEING SAID, Time Travel(?), World Travel, and Damian has no problem exploiting that, batman could do it so that means his orphanage can do it too, but it wouldn't be a bat-fic without bad luck so that too, he's got a soft spot for kids, im sorry but damian is a beast who could probably beat tf out of the avengers dont @ me, my reason?, not proof read like at all, this is just Damian and Jon getting lucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoop_There_It_Is/pseuds/Whoop_There_It_Is
Summary: “We still need to apprehend you, and being an organism that came out of an unknown wormhole is enough jurisdiction to do so.” The scary woman with red hair cuts in. She reminds him of Barbara.“Would it help if I said it was an accident?” Jon asks as they lead him onto an aircraft, “I think an armed airship is a bit excessive…”---Pretty much the Supersons duo take a trip to the MCU, and misunderstandings occur.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 103
Kudos: 563





	1. Is it Bad That This is a Regular Occurence?

**Author's Note:**

> This highkey sucks oof oof oof

Damian’s eyes rolled so far back that he’s sure if they’d gone even a millimeter more, they would fall out and he would have to chase them down the street. He was  _ still _ giving his statement to the police, and if he didn’t wrap it up soon, Damian just might have to abandon him, taking his ride with him. Not like it made any difference, though, Jon could fly back to the manor in a fraction of the time it took Damian to drive the both of them back, but it is the thought that counts.

He sneered as he checked the time. 20 minutes, it has been 20 minutes since they wrapped everything up. Yet, they are still here.

He marched his way over, standing directly behind Jon(who was now hugging the very grateful parents of the girl he saved). He graciously waited until after he hugged the parents and the girl, before clearing his throat. Jon jumped and turned around, smiling when he saw who it was.

“Oh, hey Robin, I was just-”

“Wrap it up.” He warned, “I am leaving now, and I am not going to wait for you any longer.”

“Just a few more minutes? I promise I’ll be done soon.” Jon pleaded with his hands together.

“Suit yourself.”

True to his word, as soon as Damian got to his motorcycle, he revved up and left. Only a few seconds later Superboy appeared beside him, flying horizontally with that stupid grin on his face.

“Are we going to your house?” He asked.

“Yes.” Damian responded curtly. Jon looked at him weirdly.

“What's got your spandex in a twist?” He drawled out,  _ stupid grin back on his face _ .

“I am not sure I know what you are referring to.”

“Oh please, you got that grumpty dumpty face on, don’t try and hide it.” he laughed.

Damian huffed, “Whatever, either get your dumbass on or watch where you are going. I am not in the mood for any more of your self sacrificing tendencies today.”

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed, before settling on the back of the motorcycle, chest flush to Damian's’ back, “You’re mad because I jumped in front of the laser beam thingy!”

“Wow, what a  _ grand _ revelation, you truly are living proof of this species’ infinite depth of intelligence.” He could almost feel Jon's’ unimpressed look on the back of his head, “I mean, what were you thinking? You legitimately could have died.”

“You’re one to talk, I think you bats are just mad that other people are willing to get hurt to save others too,” he paused as if remembering something, “and last time I checked, only one of us has accelerated healing.” He finished triumphantly, like he uncovered a damning piece of evidence that guaranteed the won argument. And as much as Damian loved seeing his face full of pride and happiness(or his face in general) there was no way he was letting Jon get away with that.

“Well last time  _ I _ checked, only  _ one  _ of  _ us  _ has died and come back.”

“Oof,  _ low-blow _ ,” Jon whispered. “It’s okay, I know you’re worried because you  _ looove meee _ .”

“Fuck off.” Damian said without any actual heat.

Jon just hugged him tighter, “Come on… say it.  _ Say it, say it, say it. _ ”

Damian sighed tiredly. “I tolerate you.”

Jon smiled, “I like-like you too, Dami.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong. There was something off about their earlier fight, he kept thinking of how the beam that Jon was shot with seemed to do nothing. It hit him, yes, but there were no lasting effects, so that brings up the question: why did they have a weapon that did nothing? He decided to bring it up to Jon.

“I’m not sure Dames, maybe it would have an effect on a human? But I’m sure my amazingness just absorbed it.” He had said with a grin, sometimes Damian wondered how he smiled so much, it must get exhausting.

With the absolutely useless input from Jon, Damian continued to write the mission report. Mission reports were not his favorite admittedly, especially when the person who was supposed to be helping you write said report was playing a video game at an entirely too loud volume. But they had to get done.

It was at the ripe time of 2:47 am that he finished, Jon had long since fallen asleep on Damian's bed. And he’s tired, he’s so tired, but Damian's mind kept drawing back to what Jon got shot with, it just didn’t sit right with him.

Putting on civilian clothing, he laced his boots up tight, and carefully hid a few weapons. He takes his motorcycle to where they fought just hours before.

He walks up to a traffic cone, the same beam that hit Jon hit it maybe 15 minutes before Superboy was hit. It looks fine, not vaporized, not crumbled or green or  _ anything _ . It just looks like a traffic cone, plain, orange, traffic cone. He experimentally pokes it with a dagger, nothing happens. He pokes it again, only now, it vibrates. He watches, backing up minutely, as it starts to vibrate more and more until it disappears. Just…  _ disappears _ . With no sign that it was there before.

_ ‘If the ground will disappear, then will… _ ’ Damian thinks. He doesn’t know. For the first time in a while, he has absolutely  _ no idea _ what to do. He calls Jon.

_ “What? Dames? It’s…it’s late, why are you calling me- wait, where are you?” _ Jon answers groggily.

“Jon, I need you to listen carefully alright, get dressed in civvies, and-and grab- _ fuck _ \- I don’t know, money? No that’s stupid, just stay alert okay? I’ll get there soon, and for the love of all that is holy  _ please _ don’t  _ ever  _ jump in front of an unknown beam of light again, okay?” Damian was talking incredibly fast, he was driving even faster, screw the law and all that shit, he needed to get to Jon.

“Dami? What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“Yeah that light you jumped in front of while trying to play fearless hero makes things vanish, now I don’t know yet if it is cease-to-exist-vanish or just transport-vanish, but I hope for both of our sake it is the latter.”

“I- holy crap, um, uh, yeah okay I'm dressed, are you almost here or do you want me to find you?” Jon sounded nervous, which was perfectly valid, even if the situation was kind of his fault.

“I am here.”

“Okay,” he hung up.

Damian sprinted through the house, thinking ‘ _ who’s awake who’s awake’ _ , he heard Timothy rustling around in his room, and he's never been more thankful for his brothers-frankly unhealthy-insomniac tendencies.

He burst the door open, ignoring his brothers' frankly high-pitched yelp. “Drake! I need your help, follow me.” He heard a quiet “what” but left before answering.

Tim caught up, falling into step with Damian, “Damian- what- what’s going on?”

“Jon was being an idiot, and let himself be hit with a beam, and now I am fairly sure he is going to be transported somewhere, or disappear”

“Oof.” Tim said.

“Yeah, oof.” Damian responded. When he got to his room, Jon was already shaking violently. He looked up, alarmed.

“Dami? What the _hell_ did that thing do.”

He knew it was going to happen before it did, he bolted across the room, jumping the last feet, tackling Jon. He heard a sizzling sound, he heard Tim screaming their names, he heard Jon’s cry of pain.

For a second, everything went white.

He found himself in an alleyway. It was bright, making his eyes hurt, and he felt wrong, out of place. he looked to the side and saw a bright orange traffic cone, a road sign, and a care tire.

He looked down to see Jon, under him, unconscious. Whether it was the fact that he was the one hit, or maybe that Damian did tackle him and landed on him fairly hard. But either way, they were in a different and unknown city, maybe earth. He just knew this wasn’t good.


	2. Damians Guide to Pulling Plans Outta Your Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t move, turn around slowly and come with us.”
> 
> “You do realize that ‘don’t move’ and ‘turn around’ are completely contradictory, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way yall hyped me up on the first chapter was so nice like,,, oml it really was mediocre at best.

Damian felt-to put it simply- like he was four seconds from passing out, and he prided himself on that, but he was so confused that he didn’t exactly have time to dwell on it. Because firstly- they were definitely somewhere else, somewhere unfamiliar, which by itself raised many screeching red alarms in his head because he had memorized every alley in Gotham and half of New York. Second- his sleep deprived but wired mind is working on overdrive to supply him with every awful outcome possible. He hopes they might be on a different world, and really hopes it’s not an alternate or parallel universe. Seeing as it was the middle of the night back home, but it is now bright and early, along with the fact that the architecture is definitely american, and the time zones in america make it impossible where they could find themselves in the situation where it is night while another part is day… unless they time traveled? Maybe, who knows?

And shit, _Jon_ is passed out as of this moment so _Damian_ doesn’t have anybody to rant to. Damian swats him in the arm, but it's like Jon is a rock. He tries a few more times, even whispers a little "Wake up dummy" to no impact. Grunting, Damian heaves him up, putting him in a fireman's carry. "Jesus you are dense." He grits.

Damian groans. This sucks. It truly does. The only thing he wants is to sleep; he wants to go home, lay next to Titus and Alfred(maybe Jon, depending on his mood), and pass the fuck out for the next day and a half. He hasn’t slept in a good 37 hours, his mind is fried from that _stupid, stupid_ mission report, his body hurts from whatever trans-dimensional- travel just took place, and his patience is wearing dangerously thin(he fears he may soon start lashing out like 10-13 year old Damian would). But _no_ , instead all he gets is an unconscious Superboy in his arms, put in a potentially dangerous situation, and a fuck-ton of confusion.

He hears the footsteps just too late, and promptly mentally cusses out to whoever is listening. He should have been focusing, but to _do_ that he needs to not be bone-tired.

“Don’t move, turn around slowly and come with us.” A voice commands. And you can’t blame him for ' _holy shit how did you get here so fast'_ ' being his first thought.

He closes his eyes, and silently sighs. Ok, think about this. There is no way in _hell_ he is just going to go with them with no resistance, that’s a given. He needs to evaluate the situation, go back to the basics and stick to what he is good at. He is _very_ good at antagonizing people.

“You _do_ realize that ‘ _don’t move_ ’ and ‘ _turn around_ ’ are completely contradictory, right?”

“Be quiet.” _aw, he sounds embarrassed._ “Surrender, and come with us.”

“What for.” he turns around(he’s so glad he brought sunglasses)-Jon still in tow-to see...an american flag suit? That's... _so ugly_. But oddly fitting? Whatever, it looks like it’s from the goddamn 30s. And that’s a dumbass helmet, it looks like Drake's brief condom head cowl.

“Doesn’t matter.” American-Flag man says.

“I am inclined to believe it does,” he quirks his head to the side, “because, you know, I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into.”

“What- _ever_ , here are your choices: come with us easily and we’ll detain you, or try to fight, we beat you, and we’ll detain you.” A man in some form of metal flew down(it has to be a person, no A.I is that sarcastic and arrogant).

“Woah… kinky.” He drawls. He needs to try distracting them, he could probably run, He doesn’t know how fast bling-bling boy can fly though… and he saw two people in the shadows, so the chances are low.

“Wha-? I- wha’s go on?” Jon finally awakes, and it takes him all self control to not slap him upside the head for the awful times, instead Damian carefully sets him down, keeping one of Jon’s arms over his shoulder, and an arm around his waist to stable him. Because he is a great person.

“Oh goody you’re awake, we were just about to take you and your friend.” bling-bling boy says. He hears american-flag man hiss ‘ _stark shut up_ ’.

_They expect us to attack_ , he thinks. That's no good, they are in no shape to do that, if they started a fight now, they'd be toast. But... better give the people what they want, right? “What makes you think I'm just going to give up?” He sees Superboy's eyes grow comically large, and the others subtly slip into offensive stances, rather than defensive.

“No, Da-, I-I _can’t_ ” the way Jon stresses can’t clues him in. “I don't have…” _damn_ , that’s not good... Okay, new plan.

He eyes the people in front of him, as suspected, two more have appeared, a red-haired lady, and a blonde dude with a bow( _O_ _liver wannabe,_ his mind helpfully supplies). He knows for a fact that in the state him and Jon are in right now, the fight would be less of a fight, and more of a beating. So he does what every other bat would do, he throws a smoke pellet. As soon as the pellet touches the ground he pushes off and runs, dragging a stumbling Superboy behind him.

“Alright, I am going to need you to _really_ channel your flight instinct okay?” Superboy nods, and gets his footing before running alongside Damian. Damian chances a glance behind him, and sees american-flag man a good 50 feet back, but he is gaining on them, and he’s gaining _fast_. He’ll catch up soon, so he sharply turns into an alley, Jon right behind him. He jumps onto a dumpster, and scales the building.

Jon-unfortunately- does not share the same skill set as he. “Robin! I can’t-”

“Shit! We don’t have much time.” Damian hisses. He makes a split second decision(hopes it’s not a bad one) and jumps back down. “Listen, _I will be back for you, I promise_.”

“Robin what? What are you planning?” Jon says anxiously. Damian clasps Jon’s hand in his, and while he is distracted, rolls up his sleeve and slashes his forearm. “Ow! What the hell! You just stabbed me!”

“Sorry,” Damian follows that up by roughly shoving a small spherical device in the gash.

“What is that,” Jon cries and tries to pull back his arm, but the hold on it is tight. Damian winces and places a gauze pad to the cut.

“It’s a tracker, cannot be picked up by scans.” he mouths. Before whispering, “Ask them to stitch that as soon as possible.” The footsteps grow closer, “Ok I have to go now, ok?”

“Robin? You’re leaving me! And you put a freaking-?!” Jon screeches.

“You have to trust me ok? Do you trust me?” Damian asks strenuously.

“Of course,” he immediately says. “Of course I do...just- just go ok? I’ll be alright.” Jon finishes with two taps to the hand ‘ _I trust you_ ’.

Damian taps back, and with one last look, he scales the building and leaves Jon.

* * *

Jon watched as Damian disappeared over the wall, and willed his heart to leave his throat. He turns around slowly, watching the entrance to the alley. He absentmindedly presses the gauze into his gushing arm.

The buff man from before turns into a alley and falters at the sight of him.

“Are you going to come with civilly, or are you going to run again?” He says slowly.

Jon swallows thickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“Ok,” The man says warily. He walks towards Jon slowly with the shield held pointed out.

“What’s taking you so long? Just cuff him already.” The bow guy from before calls from farther down the alley. At that, the buff man does actually walk quicker and handcuff him.

The red metal dude swoops down from the sky, “Hey! Is your friend some kind of reborn Houdini? I had him right there, then he just fu- I mean... frickin disappeared! What’s up with that… it’s freaky.”

“Yeah, he does that…” Jon says weakly, “It runs in the family.”

“Oh so you’re brothers?” He asks. Jon scrunches his nose in disgust, ‘ _ew incest_ ’ he thinks.

“Do we look alike to you?” Jon snaps.

“Woah, no need to get cranky kid.” Bow guy says boredly, and Jon has never heard such a wrong statement. He takes a deep breath to calm down, his mother would have his head for such poor manners(though he’d like to think she’d tolerate it, since it’s towards his kidnappers and all).

“Yeah no need,” he says flippantly, “I’m just being kidnapped by a ton of scary old people despite not doing anything wrong.”

“Yeah sure, how do we know you’re not an alien who wants to take over our world,” metal dude says.

“Uh, I’m not an alien who wants to take over your world?” Jon half lies. He may be an alien, but he doesn’t want to take over the world.

“We still need to apprehend you, and being an organism that came out of an unknown wormhole is enough jurisdiction to do so.” The scary woman with red hair cuts in. She reminds him of Barbara.

“Would it help if I said it was an accident?” Jon asks as they lead him onto an aircraft, “I think an armed airship is a bit excessive…”

“What do you mean by accident?” Strong man says. Jon shrugs at him.

“I didn’t mean to get sent here. I got hit by a weird light gun, then things went crazy and I showed up here.”

The circus strong man bites his lip and looks around to the others. “I don’t think he’s dangerous… he didn’t attack.”

“Those weren’t our orders.” Scary-Woman states. The way she says it leaves no room for argument, but that doesn’t stop her teammates.

The metal dude removes his helmet, and his suit retracts, leaving an opening for him to step out of. Jon can’t help but notice how the suit gives him a good 4 inches in height. “I mean he’s just a kid… even if he is like a god or whatever, he’s no match for us.” The now goatee dude says cockily.

“Kids can be dangerous.” red hair woman bites out.

“Ok ok ok, you’re _right_ , but like that’s _just_ you and your wacky assassin thing, hey kid are you an assassin?” Goatee dude rambles

Jon vehemently shakes his head, “No! I’ve never killed someone, _ever_ .” He’s _never_ killed someone. He knows his father has, and that he hated himself for it. He knows Damian has, and that he at least partly regrets a few of them. He’s seen dead bodies(threw up the first time). But he’s never taken a life. Not even during _Manchester Black_. 

“There you go! He’s not a murderer, I think that’s enough grounds to decide he’s not a threat.”

“Shut up Stark,” Bow guy huffs, “Let’s just get him back to Fury, it’s orders.” he seems conflicted. Unlike the red hair woman who looks like she is whole-heartedly ready to throw Jon in a maximum security prison and call it a day.

Circus strong man pats Jon's shoulder and looks at him sympathetically, “Hey kid, you’ll be fine. We just gotta take you to the bossman so he can see for himself.”

Jon wanted to believe him, but he knew he couldn’t. He’s in a foreign world(universe?), surrounded by people who immediately decided to arrest him. He is a kid, only 14 years old, surrounded by what he hopes is this world's equivalent of the justice league, but they see him as a threat. He knows the direness of the situation.

He simply nods at the man and gives him a strained smile, “Can… can you stitch this up for me?” He gestures to the heavily bleeding gash in his forearm. It hadn’t healed yet, confirming his fears that his powers aren’t working, hopefully they would start up again.

The circus strong man looks at the laceration and winces, “Yeah sure, we’ll get that done as soon as we can,”

  
Jon nods and breaths. Slowly, in and out, like Damian had taught him for meditation. That’s all he can do, really. Breath, slowly, in and out. All he can do is breath, and wait. Wait and hope to Rao that whatever Damian planned will get them out in one piece. His ‘ _Oh shoot we’re stuck, what do we do now?_ ’ plans have never failed them before, and Jon prays they won’t now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall, i was supposed to upload yesterday but i had a lil incident, so that's my bad.
> 
> I hope you're liking it, if anybody has any feedback or constructive criticism it is very much welcome! Please comment I love comments.


	3. The Art of Sass- A Trilogy By Jonathan Kent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man sits down and stares at Jon intensely, and Jon has to keep himself from fidgeting.
> 
> “So is this an interrogation, or…?”
> 
> “So quick to assume, you are. This could just be a nice friendly chat.” See, Jon might entertain the idea, but the borderline threatening tone it was said in begs to differ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teehee i forgot this existed that my bad

Damian crashes through the-already cracked-window of the abandoned apartment building, landing roughly on the floor. Groaning, he rolls over and cradles his arm, stuck up with shards of glass. Shakily, he breathes a long sigh.

He takes a few minutes to carefully remove the glass and bandage the small cuts. He sits down slowly, thudding to the floor against the wall. His fingers ache, his arms are sore, and he can barely feel his legs. The fact that he got here without stumbling is a feat in and of itself. Once he's fully caught his breath and lowered his heart rate, he holds his head in his heads, and promptly  _ freaks the fuck out _ .

_ What the fuck what the fuck, what the  _ fuck _ do I do. I told him I have a plan, I _ promised _him. E_ xcept _ I barely do. Holy shit. This was not supposed to happen! They were supposed to beat those mad scientists, write their report and go to bed! This is an absolute shit show... How does he even go about processing this kind of thing? Breaking News: Vigilante willingly sacrifices his boyfriend to selfishly escape by himself, then promises to get him back despite having the barest outline of a plan! _

After Damian is finished crying and having a minor breakdown(very embarrassing. 0/10. would not recommend) he takes a deep breath, and screams.

Okay, now that he is  _ really _ done, he needs to think. He needs to work things out in his brain, and develop an actual plan. One that wont get both him and Jon killed. He should meditate.  He crosses his legs, and lays his hands palm down on his knees, he starts breathing.

Damian doesn’t know how long he spent, but he takes his time going through the last few hours and their events. Sorting what he knows, what he needs to know, and what he doesn’t know into the boxes of his brain. He makes a mental list of what needs to get done, and what is needed to get said things done. He goes through methods and ideas and strategies, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of each.

He needs to do research. Lots of it. But first, supplies.

When Damian opens his eyes, the sun has just started to set, so it couldn’t have been more than 2-3 hours. He stands up, and stretches out his stiff muscles. He is very tired, and he wants to sleep. But he can’t, not while they have Jon, not while they have his best friend because of him.

He does a quick inventory of his supplies. Other than his utility belt, he has twin daos strapped to his back. His belt holds many things: emergency money, smoke pellets, trackers, too many throwing knives/batarangs/shurikens too count, a few remote-controlled grenades, various devices he pilfered from Timothy, matches, lock picks, some comms, two rebreathers, some first aid equipment, and one -no- two grapples.

He’s never been more thankful for his families paranoia in his life.

He clips on his belt, and hides the Chinese broadswords under his hoodie. When he leaves the building, his determination has been renewed with the new objective. First order of business, information.

* * *

Damian… doesn’t know what to think. Actually, he does. He  _ thinks _ that these ‘Avengers’ are idiots. What kind of people-what kind of  _ superheroes _ just lets the public know their identities? Don’t they know how dangerous that is? Did they stop to think that if they know who you are, they know your family? That if they know your family they know where to find you? That if they know where to find you, they know where to find you, your family, your friends, then kill them  _ all _ . How to settle into a tall building far away, and with the pull of a trigger ruin your life?

He thinks they’re all idiots. Even ‘Black Widow’ and ‘Hawkeye’, because even though their identities are not disclosed, they still are under the authorization of an organization. Heroes shouldn’t be controlled, that is how you end up with disasters that could’ve been prevented. He doesn’t care that the “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcements, and Logistics Division”(what kinda dumbass name-) is dedicated to maintaining national and homeland security. It’s still part of the government, and it is common knowledge that the heroes and government should stay separate, because the people in the government are incompetent buffoons who think they know how heroes work best.

At least he knows where they took Jon. The tracker had led right to Avengers Tower. Their track record is not looking good so far, with their secret identities publice and the fact that you can find the place of their bases with a quick search. He is thankful, in fact, that they didn’t take him to the big base in the sky. He’d have to hijack a helicopter, steal a guards verification, blah blah, do a lot more unnecessary work, at a busy place like Avengers Tower, breaking in and getting Jon out should be light work. Though really, he is almost personally offended that they apparently apprehend people in the most obvious place possible. It makes him want to cause as much chaos as possible, just to show them their flaws. No, that is probably a bad idea... he’ll put it into the maybe pile.

Damian continues to form a rescue mission plan while getting (read: stealing) supplies. He went into a walmart and took some clothes for him and Jon, and a bag for him to put them in. Did he feel guilty about stealing? Not at all. Walmart is a multibillion dollar company that doesn’t pay their workers enough, they can afford it. He swipes some black face masks off the shelf after a moment of consideration, as well as blackout goggles. He curses the fact that he doesn’t have his domino mask with him, nor his protective gear… a real shame, in his opinion. Though he is thankful that Walmart seems to have everything(He gets some Juice boxes for Jon too), he drops the things he doesn't need in the abandoned apartment building and covered it with the plastic bags.

On his trek to the base, he goes through several plans, ranging from blowing up the building(he decided a 'no' at that one, as there are innocent people in there, unfortunately), to sneaking in and out completely undetected(and while he knows that's his most logical course of action, he can't help up but want to do something more, dare he say, flashy).

When he reaches the tower, he is disappointed but not surprised. A giant building with the Avengers logo in one of the biggest city of america, they essentially painted themselves with a giant red target for anyone who wants to attack them.

_ Very well, easier for me _ , Damian thinks. He looks up at the tall building, and with a deep breath, he goes inside.

  
  
  


Jon sat in his cell, holding his knees to his chest. He was awaiting the “bossman” that was mentioned before, and he’s decided that he's already scared of him.

When they arrived at the tall building, they had a nurse give him stitches in his arm, then they put him in a holding cell, they said that ‘Director Fury’ would be in soon to question him. The way people talked about him made Jon feel a bit squirmish, and a name like Fury demanded respect.

A person came to the cell and gave him food, but he found he wasn’t hungry(he thinks they might’ve put something in it too, it smelled off). And If he had eaten he might’ve just thrown it up, if the way his stomach was rolling with anxiety was any indication.

You see, Jon wants Damian to bust him out of here with no mercy. Plow through anyone and anything that gets in their way. If only to wipe the over-confident smirk off of goatee's face, to prove to bow guy that they are worth more concern than bored eye-rolls, to stop the blond man from assuming they are harmless children, to get a reaction out of redhead.

But these guys are  _ heroes _ . Childish, goofy, wildly contrasting heroes with a bit of inflated egos, but heroes nonetheless. Jon doesn’t exactly want to piss them off, not because he’s scared of them! But because they may be some of the only people who will help them get home. Jon knows that if someone came and beat him up, then had the audacity asked him for help? He'd decidedly _not_ do that.

Jon stews in his misery, working himself up over everything that could go wrong. The strong man from before seems to take notice, however, because he comes in to talk to him.

“Hey kid, you doing all right?” He says quietly. Jon starts, and looks up at the man, he is dressed in normal clothes now.

“Huh? Oh… yeah, just kinda anxious… is all.” Jon mumbles.

“Yeah I get you, I think all this is a bit much,” He gestures to the room around them. “But… they’re doing this just to make sure.”

"Make sure of what?" He asks with furrowed brows.

"That you're not a threat, or something like that." The man shrugs. Jon snorts at that.

“Do you guys have like annual alien invasions, or something?” Jon jokes weakly.

“Yeah, something of the sort.” He says slowly.

“Oh…” Jon can relate. Granted, he is not usually taking part in fighting them, but he still has to watch his dad leave, not knowing if he’ll make it back this time. He has to watch his mother worry herself into the ground, terrified for her husband's safety. So yeah he can relate, but he thinks that the Justice League would have handled this situation better.

The strong man grunts as he sits down on the bench next to the cell, like an old man. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

Jon shrugs, What is on his mind? That he’s worried, that he’ll never get back home and he’ll never see his family again. That he’ll rot away in this cell because people think he is going to try and take over the world. That Damian is going to fail in his rescue mission, and they’ll both end up imprisoned, “I’m scared, I guess.”

“About what?” he inquires.

“That you guys will like, never let me go or something. That I’ll never see my family again.”

The man is quiet for a bit, lips pursed. “What’s your name?” At Jon's silence he clears his throat, “I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.”

“You just tell people your secret identity?” Jon scrunches his nose.

Steve quirks his head to the side in confusion, “Yeah? The public knows most of our names and life history and stuff.”

“Like… on purpose? It wasn’t an accident that revealed you? Where I’m from, we don’t know the identities of any of our heroes.”

“No…? Sorry, I’m not sure I’m following, what’s the matter with the public knowing our identities?” Steve questioned.

“Really? What’s the matter? The matter is that if someone finds out who you are, they know who all your loved ones are, and where they’ll be. Don’t you think that makes them a huge target for villains and stuff? You’re just asking for assassination attempts at that point.”

Steve is quiet for a bit, before shaking his head, as if he's dismissing Jon's reasoning as dumb. “So that’s why you’re not telling me your names? Because you have some superhero secret identity?” He says the last part jokingly, as if the thought of a child hero was some foreign concept. Why, it may be for him.

Jon huffs a weak laugh, “I’m pretty sure all kids wouldn’t tell their names to a random guy they met an hour ago, the dangers of strangers, and all that.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, “stranger danger, you mean?”

“What are you on? It’s ‘The Dangers of Strangers’, I’ve never heard stranger danger in my entire life.”

“Agree to disagree,” Steve says, holding his hands up in a placating manner.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but never gets the chance. “Mr. Rogers, Can I have a moment of his time?” the person says it more of a command rather than a question.

“Yes, sir,” Steve stands up straight, and Jon just knows it’s ‘bossman’.

Jon isn’t entirely sure what he expected(that’s a fat lie, he expected the human embodiment of fear itself), but it wasn’t a man in a turtleneck, trench coat, gloves, and an eyepatch(all black, mind you). On one hand, Jon wanted to laugh, simply because the uncanny resemblance he had to Morpheus was just too prominent to ignore. But despite all this, his ridiculous attire was oddly intimidating? He has to go hand in hand with the way he carries himself, like he knows more than you. Or the way he talks, like he knows that you know he knows more than you, and you know you can’t do anything about that.

Sir Eyepatch’s eyes-sorry,  _ eye _ \- holds a sharpness as he gazes at Jon, as if he is a particularly peculiar rat that he is dying to experiment on. Jon quickly comes to the conclusion that if eyepatch looks at him like that while he isn’t actually imprisoned, he is going to get a kick to the nuts. Just because it creeps him out.

The man sits down and stares at Jon intensely, and Jon has to keep himself from fidgeting.

Clearing his throat, Jon dares to speak, “So is this an interrogation, or…?”

A sly smile grows on eyepatches face, “So quick to assume, you are. This could just be a nice friendly chat.” See, Jon might entertain the idea, but the borderline threatening tone it was said in begs to differ.

“Yeah well,  _ nice friendly chats _ don’t usually start with the kidnapping of a child, if you didn’t know.”

The man raised his eyebrow, “Forgive us, we were merely trying to make sure the lives of our cities' people were not at stake.”

“At stake of what? A singular 14 year old boy?” Jon snorted, “At least  _ try  _ to sound sorry,”

The man studied him, eye boring into him, “What’s your name, boy?”

Jon drew a disgusted face. Boy? Who talks like that, other than videogame characters. ”You can call me Jon.”

“Is that your actual name?”

Jon smiled, “Why wouldn’t it be?” he taunted.

“It’s the most generic name the small mind of a teenage boy could think of.” He said simply, which  _ ouch _ , “So  _ John _ , you going to tell me your last name is Smith?”

“Doe, actually.” Jon snarked.

Eyepatch gives him a blank look with an eyebrow twitch, though Jon can tell he is annoyed but slightly amused from that(Being boyfriends with the CEO of ‘Stiff-Upper-Lip’ tends to improve one's ability to read people).

“Funny, John Doe. Your little friend has a name too, I assume?”

“Don’t let him hear you call him little, he'll freak the heck out, it’s like he gets possessed or something.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” He crosses his hands in front of him, “Why didn’t you eat the food? You look… famished.”

“Wow, just tell me I look like crap next time.” Jon rolled his eyes, “I didn’t eat the food cause I would have barfed it up in a few minutes anyway-anxiety is  _ not _ good for my bowls I’ll tell ya-and the water looked a bit yellow, and ‘refrain from drinking odd-colored water’ is a standard life rule, in my opinion.”

Eyepatch’s eyes met his, “You’re anxious? Over what.”

Jon gestured around the cell with a ‘really?’ face on, “I’m being apprehended on a military base,  _ and  _ it happened right after I woke up, no less.”

“You’re not on a military base, John.”

“Oh? Pray tell, where am I?” Jon exaggerated.

The man huffed a short sigh, “You know, you’re pretty good at avoiding questions for a kid.”

Jon thought about that for a moment, then made a non-committal noise, “Nah, you just don’t like that I’m not actually evil or something.”

The eyepatch man furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to speak. Fortunately, he was cut off by trilling alarms sounding throughout the room. His face morphed into a glare, “We’ll be continuing this later.”

Jon smirked, and a wave of excitement grasped his heart, “Sure we will, homie.”

  
_ It’ll have to wait a bit though _ , he thought _. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Suggestions, criticism, or anything really is much appreciated.


	4. The Dwyane Wade of Winging It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Go get your sidekick, kid.” He said ruefully, “But know you’re not getting out of this building.”
> 
> “Fuck off old man, I’d like to see your Avengers try.” Damian snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few Statements, if you will:  
> \- I did not proofread this  
> \- So... sorry for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes  
> \- Have I had this prewritten since July 12th? Yes.  
> \- Am I still uploading this a week late? Also yes.
> 
> I don't think any trigger warnings in this chapter? other than a lotta swearing? If there are any please let me know!!!

Damian giggles manically. This may not be the  _ best _ idea he’s ever had, but it’ll certainly be the most  _ fun _ . When he snuck into the building, it took everything in him to not audibly laugh. There was almost no security. A single man asked him what he was doing there, and Damian told him he needed to get his mother, there was a family emergency after all. Then the man opened the doors  _ for him _ , and told Damian where to find the elevators. No metal or heat detectors, no frisking, and the amount of blind spots in the camera left a practical playground for him.

When he finished planting the explosives around the perimeter(hopefully he won't have to use them, no matter how much he wants to), he made his way around inching up through the floors, gracefully dancing his way between the blind spots, easily avoiding anything that could give him away. It also helped that not a single person gave him a second glance, whether it be guards, office-workers, or physician assistants.

He pulled out a flash drive that contained a virus, it could shut down any computer system. Designed by him, Jason, Richard, Timothy, and Barbara. Mostly Timothy and Barbara, but that is besides the point.

Damian weaved his way through the hall, and sprinted up the stairs. If he was right, this is the floor Jon was on, just two halls over from this floor's surveillance room.

Taking off his goggles, leaving only the face mask covering the bottom half of his face, Damian puts on his best face that says ‘ _ Im better than you, you know how I know? I snuck past all the security in your shitty building so easily, that the only reason you know about it is because I  _ allowed _ you too. _ ’... or something like that, but he's not too worried because conveying _very_ specific things through a single expression has always been a gift of his.

He reveals himself to a camera, smiles slyly, and flashes it a peace sign. He disappears from view and breaks into the surveillance room.

Two pairs of eyes snap toward him, they look at each other, then stand up.

‘Woah, man.” Damian says while dodging a fist, “We just met and you’re already trying to knock me out?” He ducks another punch and counters with a chop to the throat, then sweeps the man's feet from under him. While he’s on the floor gasping for breath, the other person tries to attack him. Key word  _ tries _ , because the swing is way too wide, so Damian steps forward during the man's weird arm pendulum swing, and shoves him back. He strikes both men below the ears, and they fall limp.

“Perfect…” he whispers. He plugs in the flash drive, and types in a few confirmation codes. It only takes a few seconds before the screens go black, and a yellow warning screen pops up. A quick look outside shows that the red light on the cameras showing that it’s recording is off.

Damian suspects he has thirty seconds before the chaos starts.

Running through the halls, he made sure to stay out of sight by people this time. Without the cameras, the only other source of information is eye witness.

As predicted, it is less than a minute when alarms blare. Now, he had hoped that the employees would be taken by surprise, and that they would waste time trying to figure out where he was long enough for him to get Jon undetected, maybe engage in a game of cat and mouse-playing a particularly slippery mouse. And while he wouldn’t say he was surprised, he wasn't exactly expecting it when a man in a trench coat and a younger woman came out of the room Jon was in.

Both the man and woman drew their guns and pointed them at him, they glanced at each other, exchanging concealed words. Rude, that is-not including him.

They held their guns differently. The man held his with an almost bored stance, like the current events were something easily handled, like he’s faced much worse(Damian didn’t doubt he did). The woman's eyes held a cold intensity. The military grade weapon she held did not shake, did not waver or hesitate. She didn’t care who it was staring down the barrel of the gun, only that they would do what she said. All of these equate to one thing, they are experienced.

Damian sighed, and put his arms up in a show of surrender. Both people raised their eyebrows at him in surprise.

“You must not be much of a fighter.” The man said, somehow both arrogantly and wary at the same time.

Damian glared at him, “It was supposed to be a stealth mission.” He bit out.

“You’re not very good at that either, apparently.” The woman huffed. She dropped her weapon in favor of walking towards him, “Hands behind you back, on your knees.”

Damian obeyed the orders with no complaint, “What compels you to say that?”

She scoffed, looking at him incredulously, “You set off the alarms, then  _ immediately  _ got caught.” She started to pull out handcuffs, and the other man's guard started to drop.

“Yeah, well, I got all the way up here, didn’t I? So, if I’m so bad at stealth, then your security is just shitty. If I were you, I'd put every single one of your guards through more training, heft up that security.”

“We don’t need heavy security when the world's strongest heroes are just a few floors away,” The said with a smirk, and Damian's first instinct is to scold him for giving away the location of his precious heros so willingly, but then he remembers that the building is quite literally called 'Avengers Tower' so... yeah. The man dropped his gun, when the woman had kneeled down and put a single handcuff around one of Damian's wrists.

Right before she could clamp it down, Damian elbowed her in the stomach and threw his head back into her face. She stood up and backed away with a shout and Damian slid under and between her legs, standing up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her throat, and kicked her legs from under her. He withdrew her gun, unloaded it with one hand then threw it across the hall.

The man didn’t get his gun out in time to stop Damian, but that didn’t prevent him from pointing it at him again.

“You gonna shoot your friend?” Damian breathed. The man didn’t falter, instead taking aim at Damian.

Honestly, he didn’t actually expect the man to shoot at him. In his defense, having a whole ass body shield was usually enough of a deterrent. But that wasn’t the case this time as the man had adjusted his target and shot without hesitation.

Such a shame, really. Bullets are fast, but The Bats are faster.

Damian wrenched out of the way, bringing the woman with him. The bullet instead buried itself right below her shoulder, and she let out a cry of pain. Damian pinched a nerve, and dropped her to the floor, and after dodging another two bullets he kicked the gun out of the man's hands. They scrabbled for a few seconds but to be frank, the man wasn’t very good at hand-to-hand.

When Damian had him pinned, the man smiled up at him, bloody teeth and all.

“Go get your sidekick, kid.” He said ruefully, “But know you’re not getting out of this building.”

“Fuck off old man, I’d like to see your  _ Avengers _ try.” Damian snarled at him.

He took the gun off the floor, and pistol whipped him in the side of the head. The man's grin dropped, and his eyes rolled back, before slumping down bonelessly.

Standing up, Damian wiped the blood away from his shirt. “And he’s not a sidekick, he’s my  _ partner, _ bitch.”

Stepping up over the man, Damian pushed open the door. At first he saw nothing but a hall, and heard nothing other than the whirring of the air conditioner.

“Robin? Is that you?” A voice said, a voice that happened to sound exactly like Jon. He grew lightheaded at how fast his heart rate declined.

Damian rounded the corner quickly, coming face to face with Jon who immediately beamed.

“Yes! I  _ knew  _ you’d come for me!” He preens, bouncing excitedly at the door.

“They locked you up?” Damian asked incredulously, “Those  _ assholes _ .” Damian took out his lockpicks and, despite his shaking hands, had the door open within seconds.

He opened the door, to be pulled into a crushing hug. Jon pulled away and opened his mouth to speak, but Damian cut him off by pressing his lips to Jon’s. Jon’s hands clutched the side of his face with the same desperation Damian felt himself.

Damian pulled away and pressed his forehead on Jon’s. “I am so sorry, I never wanted to leave you.” he _hated_ the way his eyes started to sting, “I promised myself I wouldn’t stop til I got you back.”

Jon laughed wetly, “Stop you’re making me cry.” Jon paused to wipe under his eyes. “And I know. If anything, I was more scared that you would bring absolute hellfire down upon them.”

“Don’t rest just yet, I’m still deciding.” Damian smiled softly at Jon, absolutely elated that his beloved was unharmed.

“Okay, let's get out of here, this place creeps me heck out.” Jon laughs, successfully ending the moment.

Damian rolls his eyes as he leads Jon out of the room, “Just say fuck.”

“Why would sully my virgin mouth with such crude words?” Jon snorted in laughter. He had such an ugly laugh. Damian loves it.

“Your mouth is  _ not _ virgin.” Damian says with a sly smirk, to which Jon goes a bright red.

“Shut up.” He gets elbowed in the side by his partner, though it is very weak, most likely a product of the muscle memory required to not throw people across the room on immediate contact. Speaking of-

“How’s your powers? Anything come back yet?” Damian asked as they entered a staircase.

“Oh uh-” Jon scratched the side of his head-“A little bit, some hearing, and my visions a bit outta wack, maybe a bit of strength but I'm not sure. I think it was because of the travel or something.”

“That is most likely, unfortunately we can’t test it on me to make sure.”

They went to exit the stairwell, but Jon stopped him with an arm to his chest. “I think there’s a pers-... no,  _ two _ persons? I’m not sure how many but there's people out there.” Jon said, squinting at the wall.

“Can you see them? Or what they have?” Damian asks.

Jon looks for a few more seconds, expression hard, before shaking his head, “Nah, it’s fading in and out, can’t get a good look.”

“Well alright then…” He looked at the wall, then back to Jon, “You wanna go through them or go back up, I’m sure we could get out a window.”

“Meh, I’m sure we can take them easily, as long as it’s not those Avengers people.” He punctuates the sentence by pushing through the door, then immediately ducking an arrow that had flown over his head, “Woah! It’s the Avengers!”

“Oh shit, all of them?” Damian asked, stepping behind Jon. His head snapped to the left, where a purple version of the green arrow is standing(hawkeye, his mind supplies), next to him is a lady with loose red hair that contrasts the rest of her black getup. “Oh, just you two.”

“Yeah, us two. Now c’mon, put the boy back. I’m not sure how you got him out, but I'll chalk it up to luck, so if you can come  _ civilly _ that would make this a lot easier.”

Damian looked at him, the man sounded bored. Which directly contradicted the nocked arrow pointed directly at him but whatever.

“Civilly? You just tried to shoot me in the face? I think that was a bit overkill.” Jon scoffed.

“I think it was supposed to be a threat or something.” Damian drawled, his hand was creeping behind his back, to the handle of his dao. He knows for a fact the lady-whom he is confident is Black Widow-saw him, just as he saw her draw the gun from her holster.

The only reaction gained from Hawkeye was a short breath out of his nose, “Mhmm, cool. Well I’ve lost my patience, so.” He punctuated the sentence by letting the arrow go, Damian drew one of the chinese broadswords from his back and sliced it out of the air, much to the (actually visible) shock of Hawkeye and Black Widow.

Using their short pause, Damian took out the other sword and sprinted straight for the man, Jon on towards Widow. Once he got his bearings, the man started firing off arrows at a rapid speed, and deadly precision, though not a single one hit its target. Damian hopes the only thing hit was the guy's pride.

After hitting one last arrow from the air, Damian was on top of the man. The guy drew a knife, but he caught his wrist and wrench it down, making him drop the weapon. Damian swept the guys feet from under him, and caught the bow on the way down. Damian actually  _ did _ feel kind of bad at the resounding crack that was some of arrows as he landed with a loud thud.

Before Hawkeye could reorient himself, he crouched down and wrapped his arm around the man's throat, settling a hand on the back of his head. He tightened his arm, cutting off the man's airflow.

He chanced a look up, to see how well Jon was fairing against the lady. The answer was a resounding: very bad.

She was coming at him furiously with punches and kicks, and Jon had only been able to block most of them, not being able to get in a hit himself. Damian counted it as a win that she appeared to not want to use her plethora of knives and guns.

It was annoyingly hard to focus with the man jerking violently under him, but he managed to yell out, “knees!”. Her stance was open, she didn’t protect her torso, or angle and bend her knees. Jon quickly kicked her in the side of her knees, and they buckled underneath her. Though on the drop she grabbed onto the front of his shirt, and swung behind him, stepping on his legs, and climbed up to his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his neck and dropped backwards, taking Jon with her. Jon seemed to handle it pretty well though, rolling to the side as he landed, successfully breaking free.

“Oh I’ve  _ got  _ to try that when we get home,” Damian mumbled, the man let out a wheezing sound, “Shut up.” Hawkeye took out another knife, Damian batted it away with his foot and tightened his arm. If the man could get any air out to wheeze, then he's not squeezing hard enough.

Damian looked back up to where Jon’s absolute pummeling had resumed, “Behind!” He shouted. Jon took a large step back, and when Black Widow had leaped at him, Jon faked a block before he ducked under her arm, sending a chop to the back of her neck. She dropped down to the floor with an audible _thunk_ , eyes rolled back into her head. “Did you just break her fuckin' neck?”

“No!” Jon grimaced, “At least... I don’t think so?” Jon walked towards her and turned her on her side, hand hovering in front of her nose and mouth.

“If we killed her that would pose many problems to us. And you do, sometimes, underestimate your strength.” The man's struggle started to grow weaker.

“Yeah but I’ve never like  _ killed _ anyone because of that.” Jon said. Damian watched as the man's face grew more and more red, before his eyes rolled back into his head as well, eyes fluttering closed. He held on for a few more seconds, then let go.

Jon looked up and flicked her face. “See. She’s fine. Breathing and all.”

Damian rolled his eyes, and walked over to where Black Widow was laying. He put his hands on the back and sides of her neck, feeling around for cracked bones and taught ligaments before ultimately deciding that she was just unconscious. “Whatever, consider yourself lucky you hit a nerve. Just try not to accidentally knock someone's head off when you get your strength back completely? That’d be nice.”

“Anything for you, babe,” Jon cooed, eyelashes batting. He looked like an idiot. “Oh my I am quite ravenous… can we get some ramen?”

Damian gave him a  _ look _ , “How about we escape impending imprisonment first, yeah?”

“All-  _ right _ , I’m just saying that kicking butt really works up the appetite.” Jon says.

“I hate to break it to you... but you were not the one ‘kicking butt’ in that fight.”

* * *

Tony woke up to a hand on his face, and his nose in pain.

“What the hell?!” He shrieked. He had just gotten to sleep(not really, but it’s the first time he’s slept in a bit). Pepper will have the head of whoever woke him up, she is always scolding him for trivial things, like not taking a break, and not drinking water for a week.

“Get up Tony!” Pepper says.

“What?  _ You  _ woke me up?” Tony guffaws.  _ What could be the possible reason for that?  _ He thinks, but then he hears the blaring sirens and he assumes that may be the possible reason. “What’s happening?”

“That kid you brought in earlier-which, I really think that was quite miscreant of you guys. He was barely a teen, he was probably so scared!” She says disappointedly.

“The point, Pep!”

“Oh sorry! The boy's friend came and broke him out, they’re escaping.” She says.

Tony waved a hand, and flopped back down onto the bed, “iehg, let Nat and Clint handle it, they’re the spies.”

Pepper gave him a look and put a hand on his arm, “Steve already sent them down, but they stopped responding.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, because  _ that _ was weird, “Maybe they are busy right now, I mean, it’s only some kids. Have you checked the cameras?”

She grimaced and gave him a sympathetic look, “The one who you didn’t catch earlier today… the one who broke out his friend, he did something. Nothing is working, cameras, microphones, heat and motion sensors… and something is wrong with j.a.r.v.i.s.

Tony shot up and out of the bed, now fully awake, “What? How! What did he do to Jarvis!”

“It’s weird, it’s like-”

“J.A.R.V.I.S.!” Tony cut her off, “Locate the intruders!”

The A.I stayed quiet for a moment, “There are no intruders, sir.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, “Yes! There are. There are two unauthorized children in the building!”

“There are no children in the building.”

“The boy on floor 7, the one we brought in today! Where is he?” Tony said desperately.

“I. I. I. I.” Jarvis glitched, as confused as an A.I. could be. “There have been no changes in the building's population since 1:23 AM, sir.”

“Who was it?”

“I am not sure, sir.” Jarvis said with finality. Tony had to assume that was the boy, because apparently after that everything went to absolute shit.

“Did you scan him?” Tony asked. With the scan they could find just who this bastard of a child is, then when they catch him, Tony can yell at him or something, scold him and figure out just what he did to mess up his systems(which is impossible!)(and because punching a child isn't exactly something Tony is into). Yes! That’ll work perfectly.

“No, sir.”

_...What? _ He thought. “What?! Why not!” He whined.

“It is against company privacy policy to scan everyone who enters.”

Tony swore and kicked the dresser, which  _ hurt by the way _ . Pepper put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, the angel she is.

“How about you fix Jarvis? Then you can figure out who they are, confront them later?”

Tony thought for a moment, that  _ is _ a good idea. As soon as he can get Jarvis up and running they can get scans on the two boys, figure out their identity and info, see if their prints are in the system, and get possible arrest records. “Screw that, I’m confronting those assholes myself.”

He never was the best at making smart choices.

“Tony…” Pepper admonishes.

“You know what? I am gonna find those kids, and show them why messing with  _ Tony Stark _ is a bad idea!” Tony pulled on a different shirt and some pants, determination rolling through his veins. How dare they!  _ How dare they  _ corrupt his beloved a.i!

He had made it to the main room, stomping his way to the door. Tony tapped his chest, and pieces of armor flew from his lab, his feet and legs were clad in metal by the time he had made it to the door.

“Hack my systems? See what happens when you hack my syst-” Tony yanked the door to the halls open, and was cut off when a suspiciously shield-shaped projectile hit him in the forehead.  _ Hard _ . He was knocked off his feet and landed hard on his back

He heard a small ‘ _ oops _ ’ before everything faded into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped yall liked this chapter! And thank you so so so much for the very kind comments!
> 
> If you have any questions, comments, or feedback, please comment them! I promise I'll actually respond this time :)


	5. A Tim and Tony Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damian’s gone.”
> 
> The uproar was instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHy upload a day late when you can just skip a whole week?
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is brought to you by sleep deprived writing, and my tantalizing affair with italics.

One common thing known about Timothy Jackson Drake, is that he doesn’t like to sleep. That little pesky fault in human biology that requires him to spend a third of his day unconscious if he wants to ‘function properly’, there is nothing that peeves him more. It is a true waste of valuable,  _ valuable _ time.

His family goes to drastic measures to get him to sleep. But Tim will fight. No matter how many times Alfred and Bruce spike his coffee with frankly concerning amounts of melatonin to combat the frankly concerning amount of caffeine. Or how many times Dick and Stephanie will sit on him till he falls asleep out of annoyance. He will fight Jason’s graphic threats, and Cass’s terrifying stares. He’ll even fight Damian and his extra hard brass knuckles(because  _ apparently _ being knocked unconscious is the same thing as sleeping).

Now, Tim is perfectly aware of the affects his lack of slumbering can have. He may be...  _ irritable _ , but he thinks that is more because of his absolutely chaotic and insufferable family. High blood pressure? What do you expect when you have a profession like his? And fatigue doesn’t even exist as a concept when you’re wired after four coffee’s, two redbulls, and half a can of monster that you took from a random empty desk.

Hallucination though? Tim  _ may _ have had a  _ few  _ sleep deprived auditory hallucinations. But that usually only happens at the day eight or nine mark.

And though he is only on day five, he can’t help but wonder if what he just saw was real. Taking into account what their little family business is, he thinks it is fair to assume it was, no matter how much he wants it to  _ not _ be.

After he is done absolutely  _ guffawing _ at the spot where  _ Damian and Jon just vanished from _ , he realizes that he should probably do something.

Stumbling out of Damian's bedroom, he runs down the hall, banging on every door he passes(because he really has no idea which room Jason has passed out in tonight) yelling at the Top Of His Lungs: “Everybody up! Family meeting right fucking  _ now _ ! We have a huge ass problem!”

He looks around impatiently, doing a double take when Cass is already next to him, looking at him in worry-which,  _ creepy _ . She bites her lip before speaking “Problem?” he nods his head distractedly.

Tim and Cassandra run throughout the halls, gathering siblings of various states of tiredness(“Wha- Jason why were you sleeping in the bathroom?” “Fuck off Timmers.”).

Bruce wasn’t even awake when they all barged into his room(he can’t fathom why he’d want to be sleeping). And Tim would really like to say he tried to stop Jason from waking him with a hearty slap, but you can’t always get what you want.

Bruce had woken spluttering and swatting Jason’s hands away. “What? What’s happenin’?”

“Master Timothy has woken us for a ‘Family meeting’” Alfred spoke from the doorway. Tim hadn’t noticed him arrive at any point, he probably would have given it more thought were it not a common occurrence. Though he does look impeccable as always.

“Yeah, we don’t know what's happening either, Bruce.” Dick had spoken up, rubbing absentmindedly at his shoulder.

Bruce groaned as he sat up-like an old man- and ran a hand down his face-also like an old man. “What’s this abou-”

“Damian’s gone.”

The uproar was instant.

Everyone had spoken up at once, voices tinged with shock, worry, or disbelief. They were only silenced by Bruce waving his hands in the air and yelling at everyone to ‘ _ Shut up please I’m begging you. _ ’ 

“What do you  _ mean  _ he’s gone? Where did he go?” Bruce asked.

Tim brought his hands up and clutched the sides of his head, “He like came into my room right? And he dragged me out talkin bout like Jon and shit, then when we got to his room, Jon started shaking, then Damian tackled him, then they went… poof.”

“Poof?”

“Poof!” 

“Holy shit the demon really did it now…” Jason nervously laughed.

“Oh no!” Dick cried, “What if he ended up somewhere bad?! Or-or like on a, on a alien planet, and we’re not there to help him!”

Tim took Dick’s hand in his, “He’ll be okay, he knows how to take care of himself.” He said softly. Though he felt the same. _ Maybe  _ the first few…  _ years _ were rough for them, because Damian was so annoying and bratty and cruel, and he was also painfully easy to rile up.

One might call him reckless for purposely provoking a child tainted with the evil pit juice, but to be fair it was very easy to forget. Though when his sickly green eyes glow a bit brighter and his veins roll in faint green lines, the realization slaps you in the face right before he does. But despite all that, they’ve made some serious improvement, and he hates to admit it, but he’d be really sad if he lost his baby  ~~ antichrist ~~ brother.

“Tim, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” Bruce rushed out, getting out of his bed.

Tim followed behind him, as he fled the room, making his way down to the cave. The rest were following as well. “Well, he came into my room, and started ranting about Jon throwing himself in front of a beam of light? He didn’t say much other than he thinks it might transport Jon.”

“Then?”

“Then we went to his room and Damian got to Jon right before he disappeared, though Damian went with him.”

Bruce swore under his breath. “We need to get whatever Jon was hit with,” he pulled up their mission report. “Dick, can you call Lois and Clark? They need to know about this. Cass and Stepha-why are you here Brown? Whatever, you go with Cass and find-” He squinted at the screen “-Dr. Hide and Dr. Seek? Those are stupid names.”

“A okay cap-i-tan.” Steph saluted at Bruce, to which he shook his head.

“After, everyone group back here, we need to run some tests.”

They all set about their separate tasks.

* * *

When Tony woke up, such an intense confusion gripped his heart, that the only coherent thought he could form was ‘huh?’.

The  _ next _ thought however was ‘Oh shit, Pepper is going to kill me’.

After the foremost confusion of being newly conscious, he was already prepared to face a lot of things. He was expecting a concerned but angry Pepper fluttering around him, simultaneously scolding him and asking if he was alright. He was expecting a smirking Clint, channeling his true douchebaggery and taunting him for his failure. He was expecting a disappointed Natasha, looking at him with a calculating gaze; already running through new work regimens to improve performance. He was expecting a sympathetic Steve.

What he  _ didn’t  _ expect were three of his team members, sitting in silence, all with  _ wildly _ different moods. He  _ really  _ doesn’t know  _ what  _ is going on.

What he  _ does _ know was that his head hurt like a  _ bitch _ .

Tony groaned loudly and dramatically, and tried to sit up. Which just made his head hurt more. When he brought his fingers up to his head, he felt a comically large bump in the front of his head. “Owwwww.” he whined.

“I share the sentiment, Tones.” a gravelly voice said. It was Clint, who was in the midst of swallowing a few pills.

“What the actual heck happened?” He asked.

“We got our asses beat by ten year old's.  _ Especially _ you, you got your shit rocked when you weren’t even fighting them.” Clint started the statement sounding annoyed, before trailing into amusement. Which, yeah. Tony expected that, that little birdy never missed on an opportunity to taunt him.

“ _ You _ got your asses beat.” Natasha ground out, she was massaging the back of her neck aggressively.

“That kid knocked you out too, Nat, don’t act all high and mighty.” Clint snorted. Tony’s eyebrows raised at that. He found it hard to believe that a  _ kid  _ had bested Natasha Romanoff. Super-skilled-assassin-that-can-kill-you-in-three-seconds Natasha Romanoff. And it appears Bruce-whos he swears he saw hide a smile behind his mug of tea- shares the sentiment.

“The only reason he did was because I misjudged his skill.” She snapped, “He could barely block me, then caught me off guard by taking up offense, rather than defense.” She huffed an annoyed scoff, “and he is abnormally muscular for a teenager.”

“Woah woah woah woah,” Tony said shaking his hands, he’s not used to being the confused one in the room. Usually he’s the smart one who knows everything(with Dr. Banner of course), and everyone else is below him, where they should be. Though right now the roles seem to be reversed, he does  _ not _ like it. “You got knocked out by a teenage boy? What kind of kids…”

“Rude brats. Those kinds of kids.” Natasha seethed.

Clint barked a laugh and pointed at her, “Hey don’t bash ‘em! They put you in recovery position! It was cute.”

“Oh well in that case.” She deadpanned.

They fell into a silence again. Clint was icing his neck, Bruce reading a book, and Natasha fuming. Tony had more questions, but he figured it was best to let them all enjoy the silence. They better appreciate it while it lasts because after this, Tony will promptly not be shutting up for approximately three days, thank you and goodnight.

During their silence, Steve walked into the room and eyed them in attempts at consolation. He appeared to be the only one other than Bruce who was completely, and unfairly, unharmed. Tony had a huge ass bump on his head, speaking of-

“Hey capsicle! What the hell was that! Why did you hit me with the shield?!”

Steve shrugged his shoulders and gave him that puppy dog look. “That wasn’t me! They-those kids… they stole it.”

Tony stayed quiet for a small moment, he wasn’t sure if he heard that right. “I’m sorry, did you just say they  _ stole _ it? The most valued and important aspect of your artillery? They just have it? Why do they have it?”

Steve shook his head, “Oh, no, they gave it back.”

Tony tilted his head and huffed an annoyed sigh, _why would he phrase it like that? The idiot._ “They gave it ba _ck_? Okay frosty, can you start from the beginning? Explain please?”

Steve looked at his feet, refusing to look at them, and blushed a light pink. Which did nothing for Tony’s confusion but fuel it. “It doesn’t matter.”

Clint, Bruce, and Natasha all spoke up at that: “What do you mean is doesn’t matter-”

“Hold on a sec-”

“Steve what aren’t you saying-”

Steve raised his hands and rushed out, “It doesn’t matter!”

“Well it does now! I wanna know what happened with those tiny bastards.” Clint laughed.

Steve-still blushing-opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with something to say. Lucky for him-but unlucky for the rest of the squad-he was saved by the door sliding open. A stone-faced Fury coming through, with Maria Hill in a sling not far behind.

“Damn, what happened to you two?” Tony jeered. Fury's focus snapped to him, and assessed him with a judging gaze. Most people would shy away from Fury's glare, Tony included at one as volatile as this one, but maybe his might-be-concussed brain was affecting him, because Tony simply stared right back.

“An asshole child happened.” He said. The others nodded in sympathy. “He faked us out, then got the jump on us while we were apprehending him.”

Steve furrowed his brow in confusion, “How’d he do that?”. Tony really didn’t understand why he cared so much. If he were Steve, he’d be bowing at his dear friend Tony Stark’s feet for catching his shield, even if it was with his face.

Director shook his head in annoyance, and Tony idly wondered if he was embarrassed about what happened, before remembering that Fury was too prideful to admit that anything he did warranted embarrassment. “He let us believe we caught him by accident, and that it was supposed to be a stealth mission. When Agent Hill got close, he shot her.”

“You shot me sir.”

“Technicalities.” He shrugged(Tony wanted to hear  _ that  _ story), “What’s important here, is that we got him on camera.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “How? Weren’t they all shut off…” He is pretty sure about that, his memory is fuzzy at best, but that is the memory that sticks out the most. Him freaking out that the cameras and sensors were shut off.

“We got them on the bodycam of some cops.” Fury walks to the counter and gestures them over. They all crowd around the tablet he sets up, and he plays the video.

The video isn’t the best quality, but when a pale boy with longer black hair says  _ “Why is it that there are always more people around the corner? Jaysus christ!” _ they all recognize the voice as the boy they brought on the plane. Tony assumes that the other boy next to him was the friend that broke him out.

_ “Stop complaining, these are just cops.” The other boy says.  _ To which Tony wants to point out that they are just cops with guns. Pointy shooty things that kill you fast.

_ The policeman recording has one of said pointy shooty things pointed at them, and yells, “Hands up, and on your knees!” But the boys pay him no mind other than a glance in his direction. _

_ “Exactly, cops.” Boy One says with disdain, “There’s like twelve inexperienced, trigger happy dummies pointing guns at us. That’s scary.” See, he gets it. _

_ Boy Two nods his head, considering what they said, and one of the police women sneers in anger, “Down on the ground, now.” _

_ Boy Two glares at her, “In a minute, we are-” _

_ “Now!” She cuts him off. Boy One and Boy Two look at each other. Boy one snorts a laugh. Whether Boy Two laughed as well is undetermined due to his mask. _

_ “What did we do? You can’t arrest someone without charge?” _

_ “Breaking and entering, assault, prison escape, trespassing, and property damage.” _

_ “Oop. Does it help that my arrest wasn’t done lawfully?” Boy One asks, obviously knowing the answer. _

_ “Wasn’t read his Miranda Rights, he was held in custody without probable cause, there was no warrant out for his arrest. They essentially kidnapped him.” _

_ The first police man spoke again, “Alright that’s it. You are under arrest for the aggravated assault-” _

_ “Ah fuck it.” Boy Two groaned. Boy One laughed and shouted something that sounded like ‘Aye-cab baby!’(and seriously, Tony has no idea what aye-cab means). _

_ Boy Two leaped towards one of the officers, who shot at him, followed by many of the other officers. He jumped horizontally and twirled into a flip. All the bullets whizzed passed him, and when he landed, four throwing stars shot out from his hands and embedded into four different guns. Rendering them unfit for use. _

_ There were more shots, and more flips, and more throwing stars thrown. Boy One was standing in the back, boredly picking at his nails while Boy Two jumped back and forth, knocking out guards as quickly as possible. A few ended up getting stabbed but nothing fatal. _

_ Boy One did punch a guard who got too close to Boy Two at one point, and the guard immediately dropped down unconscious. The two boys looked at each other for a few seconds before Boy One said “How about you don’t do that again.” and the other had just nodded and agreed, saying “Yeah you’re probably right.” _

In the end, it only took around two minutes for both boys to get through quarter of the police force with ease. Before running off out of sight.

Tony did  _ not _ know how to feel about what he just saw.

If the way Bruce was staring wide eyed at the screen was any indication, along with his exclamation of “I thought you guys were exaggerating…”, he felt the same way.

Tony jumped when Fury clapped his hands together, “Aww come on Nicky… my head hurts.”

“My heart goes out to you.” He said blandly, and Tony did not appreciate it. “We have you stop at nothing to catch these boys-”

“Who’s we?” Tony cut in, because he never really could keep his mouth shut, “As far as I’m concerned,  _ you _ will do nothing but yell at us if we don’t get them.”

“You are pushing it, Stark.” he snapped, “When we get these motherfuckers back, I want them on watch 24/7. Stark, fix up your robot  _ (‘It’s an A.I.’)  _ as soon as possible. I want Romanoff, Rogers, and Barton watching the boys  _ at all times _ . Banner and Stark, work on trying to figure out where they came from, and if we can expect anymore visitors.”

“Yes, sir.” They all said(though Tony’s was noticeably more  _ mocking _ than the others, weird).

With the orders established, Fury took his leave, Agent Hill leaving behind him. Tony sat back down. He thinks he has a concussion, low-grade at least, but that won’t stop him from buckling down and fixing jarvis.

While going through the coding, he puts some thought into those two kids. He has so many questions about them… where did they come from? Why are they so skilled? Are they evil? So many inquiries about them, yet almost none of them answered. He likes to think that he’s eager to find them, to scratch that itch of curiosity in his mind(because if there is anything constant about him, it’s that he always wants to know more). He wants to pick the brain of that other kid, the one in the mask. Tony doesn’t know how he did it, but he messed up his systems-which  _ should _ be impossible. And no offense to the boy that was briefly imprisoned, but mask-boy seems to be the brains of their little duo.

Tony is  _ very _ interested in these two boys, but he also thinks they will be more trouble than necessary.

He doesn’t know how they’re gonna catch them. He figures he’ll let the rest handle it at first, then swoop in to do it himself-because they are incapable without him. What can he say? It’s not Tony’s fault he’s so amazing and smart( _ and ruggedly handsome _ , his mind whispers).

Yes, yes. That is a great plan. Solve everyone else’s problems with his awesome-ness. But first, he’d like a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment or I will pass away <3
> 
> Anyway, how have yalls week been? I literally spent 13 hours playing among us with my friends. You cant trust nobody in that game. I also got my cast off too but i still can't walk so that's fun. Also this guy i know from school came to me at the doctors and talked to me for a bit, and said to 'keep in touch'??? as if he's not the one that ignores me when i say hi??? make it makes sense please. Well that's a recape on my week.
> 
> So i've been playing with the idea of including more characters, so i think ive pretty much decided that Matt Murdock will have a big part, if not all the defenders(maybe not, i still havent decided on jessica/luke/danny). If you have opinions on that, please share them!!!


	6. An Impromptu Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huh, Daredevil thinks, He’d make a pretty good sidekick.

Matthew Murdock has had a  _ long  _ day.

First, he had a court appearance(A man had been sold drugs laced with fentanyl, he had lived, but his sister died. He was faced with charges of possession, and involuntary manslaughter). Then, he had a particularly uncomfortable encounter with an old man who bumped into  _ him _ , then told him to watch where he was going. Then there was the awkward realization of the man realizing that he is blind, then backtracking and pretending to be regretful when Matt could  _ fully tell _ he was not. It just took way longer than necessary.

Then, of course, is his side business.

There has been quite the influx of crime, and Matt just can’t figure out why. It’s not like organized crime or anything, it’s just... people seem to be extra violent lately. It  _ is _ getting close to the end of the month, and muggings have usually spiked a bit by that time, but not by this much.

Maybe mercury’s in retrograde. He’ll have to ask someone.

Also, he hasn’t gone to confession in a while, and he can feel its toll on him. Because every time he puts on this suit, he feels this  _ wrongness _ that makes his throat dry and stomach queasy. But he can’t get enough. Because even though he feels wrong, he also feels like he can breath better than ever before. When he has that suit on, it’s like everything that weighs down on him is lifted off his shoulders, and he can think and live and  _ feel _ .

But as soon as that suit comes off, the sins of both his lives come dancing back, and no amount of repenting can clear his lungs of The Devil, clean out the blood and fire and all that  _ red red red _ .

Confession helps. Not a lot, but it does. It’s not like an addiction or anything, but… it’s good for him. It reminds him that what he’s doing, it helps. That it’s not just some vice where he bleeds out all his vile urges. It reminds him that he still is human. That he’s not a monster, that he’s not The Devil.

Maybe he should get a therapist.

Well, no.

His identity is a secret and he can’t compromise that. If he wanted someone to  _ talk _ with, about all this stuff. They would have to be a hero/vigilante who knows his identity, and not to be rude, but he doubts his very few friends could help him, taking their own coping mechanisms into account.

Daredevil stiffens at a sound. A whistle through the air and the thud noise. Followed by a yelp and a grunt.

He stands up and turns towards it, it’s not very far, just a few blocks. Hopping over to the next building, he runs over to help. He’s taken aback when it’s not a mugging, like expected, but a fight.

There are three people, from what he can tell. Two of them are fighting-each other that is- and one is off to the side. Daredevil forcibly stops himself from intervening because… he can’t tell  _ who _ needs help. The two are fighting fast and skillfully. Like assassins. The shorter one flips back and while upside down, throws a knife at the taller one, target dead set for the chest, and he thinks for a second that  _ that one _ is the bad guy. But then the taller one just manages to dodge it and with an identifying sound, draws a sword.

He doesn’t think average citizens just  _ carry around swords _ .

The short one stops and turns around suddenly, facing Daredevil, “Hey! You a vigilante or another assassin?” He ducks as the taller one swings the sword at his neck, kicking the assassins legs from under them, he dive-rolls away. “Cause I’d like to get out of this  _ without murdering a bitch _ .”

Daredevil has to do a double take. Because he sounds like a  _ kid _ . Not like someone who would be able to throw a knife with deadly accuracy.

Not putting too much thought into it, Daredevil leaps into the fight.

As soon as he starts helping, the kid falls back letting daredevil take the lead, opting to dance and jump around him, deflecting any hits that would’ve hit him, Matt, or the other person off to the side.  _ Huh _ , Daredevil thinks,  _ He’d make a pretty good sidekick _ . Of course, Daredevil doesn’t do sidekicks. Maybe Jessica though, she’d be prickly at first but he thinks she’d warm up to him.

Besides the point.

Daredevil walks away from the fight with a  _ lot _ less injuries than usual.

Though he  _ was _ a bit annoyed that he wasn’t the one who actually finished the fight. It was neither of them actually. The person off to the side had snuck up on the assassin, they had just kicked the assassin in the face, and Matt was only a few feet away when the person had jumped and knocked them out in one clean punch. The assassin had dropped quite literally like a sack of potatoes.

Of course, Daredevil didn’t get too much time to be bothered as the two boys-and that’s what they were, literal children-had immediately started bickering.

“God, I thought I told you not to do that.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Yeah well, someone has to  _ think  _ for you since  _ you  _ neglect to do so.”

“Hey! I’m smart!”

“That’s not what you say when you ask me to do your algebra homework.”

“You  _ know  _ gays can’t to  _ math  _ da-”

Matt cleared his throat loudly and both boys turned to him as if they forgot he was there. He severely hopes that was not the case.

“Do you guys want to tell me what is going on?” Daredevil asks carefully.

The knives kid sighed forlornly, “Super  _ idiot _ punched her too hard, can’t you see- oh shit.”

It was almost funny. Almost. He admits, he hasn’t gotten “ _ can't you see? _ ” As his apparent blindness is usually obvious, glasses and stick and all. And people assume he isn’t blind while he’s Daredevil, so… yeah.

Before he could get the chance to reply “actually no.” the kid had laughed. And it wasn’t an awkward laugh that so many did, it was tinny and wheezy and maybe a little bit stifled but it was real. It had been so long since people didn’t immediately pity him. Except for foggy, maybe, but even then he had his instances. Something about it makes him smile, his mind clears, and the tension in his chest loosens, even if it was only a little.

Ok so _maybe_ he wouldn't mind a sidekick.

When the boy manages to wrangle his laughs, he clears his throat. “Ok well anyway, he punched her really hard and now she’s kinda bleeding a lot, but head wounds always bleed more than normal so? I’m not entirely sure but she probably needs medical attention.”

Matt doesn’t necessarily want to point out that the kid had almost killed and/or maimed her multiple times. So instead he just quirks his head to the side and asks: “Why don’t we just… leave her here?”

Now Matt may be one hundred percent blind but even  _ he _ can see the eyebrow raise.

“She has a head injury? She might not uh,  _ wake up _ ?” He says, tone judging and sarcastic.

Matt sighs, he usually doesn’t put too much thought into this kind of thing, but one conversation in and the assassin child is really making  _ him _ question his morals.

“Ok well, what do you want to do? With her I mean?”

The other boy speaks up, “Ooh I can take her to the hospital real quick?” He proposes. Matt hears the rubbing of fabric, the scrape feet against the roof, and some shifting of bones.

If he’s right, the knives boy just did a full body eye roll.

“ _ Can _ you though?” knives boy asks.

Punch boy stops at that, before shifting and jumping in the air once. “Oh… most definitely not.”

“ _ How did you make it to ten without me, _ ” he groans.

Forcibly pushing down a laugh,(because he is very serious and not at all amused by these two teenage boys bantering like an elderly married couple) he speaks up again. “We can take her to the hospital.”

The punch boy hums, “Then what?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, “Then you leave? Go back home to your parents or something.”

The two boys shift slightly towards each other, likely exchanging some form of nonverbal communication. “What? You two  _ do _ have a place to stay, right?“

“No.” They both say in unison. Matt clenches his jaw… well now what?

“Ok…”

Punch boy snorts and Matt can hear his hair rustling, “You are so awkward.”  Matt is inclined to disagree, he actually likes to think he’s not, and rather, most people wouldn’t know what to say in this situation either. “Can we come with you?”

Amidst his shock, he thinks he heard the boy slap the other in the arm, and hiss something like _subtlety, dipshit_. “Um… are you sure you can’t, like, go to a shelter or something…”

The knives boy grumbles again, “Listen, we need somewhere to stay, and you’re like us, so either you take us to your house  _ now _ , or we find it later.”

Matt sighed, he didn't know if they could really find his house, but the boy had said it with confidence that there might be truth to it. He doesn’t necessarily want to find out, either.

What could be the harm in it? These obviously aren't some random kids, they’re suspiciously good at fighting, and seem to be familiar with this whole situation. Why knowing what to do with an injured assassin is familiar to two teenagers, he doesn’t know.

Matt huffs a sigh laced with annoyance and excitement. Looks like he’s adopting two teenagers for a night.

Damian eyes the man in front of him, a vigilante. One not interested in arresting them at that. For a second he thinks the guy is going to refuse, insist that they leave him be and go somewhere else.  Though Damian was not at all kidding when he said they’d just tail him and go there later. He can’t get away, and him and Jon are relentless, and he’ll have to go home  _ eventually _ .

The guys eventually nods, though “Ok…” He says slowly. “You can come back to my place. But under no circumstances can you tell people who I am, got it?”

Damian immediately responds, if anyone knows the importance of secret identities, it’s him and his family. “Of course.”

The man nods back and turns east, “Come on, this way.”

He starts to lead them back to his place, weaving and jumping through alleyways, scaling buildings, and hopping roofs. And after needing help for the third time on getting across a particularly wide gap, Jon huffs.

“This is  _ so  _ much harder without being able to fly.”

_ God dammit, _ Damian thinks,  _ So much for discretion _ .

“What do you mean fly?” the man asks incredulously.

He purses his lips and gives Jon a  _ look _ , Jon just shrugs, Damian rolls his eyes and waves to the man in a “Go on” gesture.

“I can’t believe we didn’t tell you, omg. So my name’s Jon, spelled j-o-n, and I have like powers but there were some side effects when me and Damian got transported here. So obviously, I’m not used to doing these kinda things without my powers.” he mouth vomits.

The force of his face palm genuinely almost knocks him over.

“...I’m sorry, huh?” the guy asks after a long pause. “That made no sense.”

Damian sidles up next to the man, trying to salvage whatever he can from the conversation. “Do you believe in alternate universes?” He asks hesitantly.

The man shakes his head in disbelief, “If you’re about to tell me what I think you are, I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“No.”

The man sighs forlornly, and Damian just  _ knows _ he’s trying to figure out if it’s too late to return them. But considering they’re standing on the roof of an apartment building, the guy already halfway down a roof access ladder, Damian’s going to say yeah, it’s too late.

They’re led to an apartment that’s open and spacious. “I hope it’s to your liking.” He says blandly, “I don’t really know what it looks like, so.”

“It’s great.” Jon chirps.

“A little dark.” Damian drawls.

Jon smacks Damian on the arm with a hiss but it gets a wry laugh out of the vigilante. The man looks in their general direction, and points to the couch. He tells them to stay, and that he’ll be back, then they can talk, before walking into the bedroom.

Damian waits until he can hear a shower running, ensuring the man won’t walk in mid-change, and throws down his bag.

“I got us some clothes.” He says, rummaging through the duffel.

“Oh goody,” Jon cheers, plopping down next to Damian, “Where’d you get them?”

Damian pulls out a black turtleneck, and a worn brown leather jacket that’s a few sizes too big, “Walmart.” he answers

“Ooh,” Jon preens as he holds up a baggy rainbow sweater and ripped mom jeans, “You know me so well.”

They both get dressed and sit on the floor, and all they can do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes oh yikes. i have been hit with a near-chronic case of writers block so i really do not know when the next chapter will be out. this one literally took me forever and it is so bad and short and kinda the definition of filler chapter.
> 
> thanks for all your comments on the last chapter!! i read them all multiple times and am very thankful for them. do not hesitate to ask questions or share your criticisms/thoughts/concerns.


End file.
